Overcome
by Ankhesen
Summary: Oneshot answer to Recumbentgoat's fic prompt challenge on the Beyond Trek LJ comm; partially inspired by the episode "Is There No Truth in Beauty?"


**A/N**: Inspired first by Recumbentgoat's fic prompt challenge, and second by "Is There No Truth in Beauty?"

* * *

**Overcome**

"I'm…_fine_, doctor. Logic would suggest you _desist_."

Dr. Leonard McCoy backed off immediately.

He didn't need the tall, teeth-grinding Vulcan First Officer to practically growl at him twice. Though Commander Spock was registering as normal (well, at least normal for a Vulcan) in every test he administered, there was something still a bit…off about the man. He was well…and dressed for work…yet he was willingly taking sick leave. He was strictly eating alone or in the Captain's quarters, but he was avoiding the bridge and the officers' lounge like the plague.

And stranger yet, when the _Enterprise_ pulled into Starbase 256 and damn near every crew member was jumping off for a couple days of shore leave, Spock holed himself up in his quarters like a teenager and shunned all companionship. And when McCoy _politely_ pointed it out, the Vulcan got a bit…grouchy.

The doctor—having already seen the Spock strangle Captain Kirk before—did _not_ need to stick to around any longer than necessary.

"Well," McCoy said, hastily packing his tools, and preparing to flee Spock's oddly Spartan quarters, "you've got a clean bill of health. Just a reminder though: the ship will likely be empty by 2200 hours tonight."

"Thank you, Doctor," Spock bit out.

"So if you get hungry, you _may_ have to leave the ship."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Now, Jim and Scotty have already beamed over this morning. And I think Sulu and Chekov beamed over last night."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"The bridge should be empty, 'cept for the lieutenant. Blessed woman's running last minute diagnostics all alone before she takes off. You know, Spock, sometimes I wonder why the hell she's single. She's just so…so….how did you put it? Oh, yeah—'She walks in beauty, like the ni—'"

"_Get out, Doctor_."

"Have a nice day, Spock."

And out the door, the good man quickly fled.

***

Spock was grateful for the outer silence which followed; after all, silence was so very _hard _to come by these days. Even though the formless Medusan Ambassador Kollos had long vacated his body, Spock could still hear echoes and shadows of him rattling around his mind.

_You_ know _you want her. I don't even know why you bother trying to hide it._

Spock ground his teeth again, slamming his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to meditate the truth away.

_You can lie to the Captain, to the gentle doctor, to_ _that_ darling, _misguided nurse—hell, you can even lie to _her_—but not me, Spock. Not_ me_…you and I…we were one mind, remember?_

It was precisely times like these which made Spock think mild melds were illogical. One was never fully "himself" again once they were completed. It was eerie how, days after the meld, Spock could hear Ambassador Kollos as loudly and as clearly as though he were right there in the room. And the Ambassador, despite his lauded reputation for diplomacy and sophistication, was an _extremely _perverted man.

_Such a waste, Spock_, the devious whisper taunted. _You have the luxuries of these perfectly interlocking bodies and yet you hesitate to…interlock._

Was that a chuckle? Did the bastard just chuckle at him?

_Indeed_…, Spock twitched, humor was illogical, counterproductive, and just _so_ not the point right now.

"Be quiet," the Vulcan grumbled irritably, squeezing his eyes closed so hard they actually hurt.

_Seriously, Spock,_ the voice of Kollos cruelly laughed, _like…obvious much? You hold Jim and Leonard so close to your—well, whatever you Vulcans consider a _"heart"—_and yet at the first excusable chance you get to truly express how much they_ really _mean to you…you simply tell them they're your friends before practically skipping over like a lovesick schoolboy to quote Lord-friggin'-_Byron…_to_ her.

The Medusan snorted derisively inside his mind. _You fucking sap_….

"Shut up," the Vulcan growled. The voice of Kollos simply laughed at him.

_And my, my, my! What fantasies you've been having, you filthy, naughty, repressed little nerd! Well…_big_ nerd, I should say. You know…word has it human women actually _like_ that sort of thing. Were you aware of this? Did you know this when you wore out the skin of your dick to thoughts of sitting in the captain's chair while she sucked you off? You know…with that _mouth_ you like to pretend you and every other man on the bridge aren't staring at—_

"Shut…_up_." That, unfortunately, came out more like a groan than a growl.

_Remember that time she flirted with you, told you she was tired of the word "frequency", and you copped out like a coward with that "Vulcan has no moon" bullshit? Jeez, Spock, how come you didn't just man up and tell the woman that every time she utters the damn word "frequency", your dick threatens to fire a load strong enough to cross half the bridge and put out the Captain's right eyeball?_

"_Shut up_."

_When she said she was feeling too much like a part of her console, Spock, _the Medusan's voice practically spat,_ that would've been the _perfect_ time to lean in and murmur real low in that deep, rumbling voice of yours, "…but Lieutenant…I rather _enjoy_ the sight of you at that console. It's all I can do to keep from bending you _over_ that console, hiking up your ridiculous little uniform, stripping off those velvety matching panties you think I don't notice, and just driving into you like mindless, rabid animal…."_

Spock felt beads of sweat form across his brow and chest. His blue tunic, though normally roomy and comfortable enough, was suddenly stifling. He gasped for breath like a dying man as his blood roared in his ears.

_Because you _are_ an animal, Spock_, the Medusan's voice rasped dangerously. _Whether you admit it or not._ _And it's not your "human" side I'm talking about—no, no, no, no, no…I mean, the_ raw, savage, **beastly** _descendant of beasts who bit their mates until they drew blood, hurling them against stone floors and ripping the silk from their bodies until they lay naked and bleeding in the desert wind, quivering with smoldering desire_—

_Are you a fan of __Kurik__*, Spock?_

The warm, salty, torturous droplets of sweat slowly slid downward, as though mimicking the course of Spock's scorching blood flow.

He was getting hard.

Normally that was okay—he could handle it. Meditation, masturbation—he could handle it, but _this_…this was different. After days of failed meditative sessions, unsuccessful cold showers, sleepless, sweaty nights and the inability to go five minutes without thinking about _her_…_this_ could not _possibly_ end well.

And the Medusan's ghost was _soooooooo_ not helping.

_Does she know your little secret…"Mr. Spock"?_ the voice of Kollos mercilessly teased. _Does she know what happens to a Vulcan when someone he urgently craves just ever…so…_ca-sua-lly _touches his ears…so lightly…like a caress? Does she know why you insist on keeping your lyre _firmly_ perched in your lap throughout the course of your little "lessons"? Does she have_ a single clue _what you're thinking about doing to her when you two are alone and safe from prying eyes?_

_Does she know why the "lessons" just _have_ to be in your quarters every night? Explain to me again the "logic" of why _she_ has to play her lyre on your bed while _you _get to sit in an actual _chair_, Spock._

_Because I seriously doubt "the lieutenant" knows you fantasize about seeing her dark naked body...lounging upon a zebra skin cover draped across your bed…you know, during your "lessons". I doubt she knows you're thinking about shoving her legs apart and pinning her down to the zebra skin while you push yourself into her…_all_ of yourself…'cause you _know_ a woman built like that can handle it, Spock. You know you could fuck the living hell out of her for hours on end and she'd enjoy every fucking second of it._

For a moment there, the Vulcan thought he was having a heart attack.

He swung his long legs over the side his bed, clutching his side and gasping for breath as he tried to pull his body back into its usual calm, but it wasn't happening this time. The meld with the Medusan had unleashed far more than soft chuckles and friendly smiles; it had also opened the floodgate to a brutal, insatiable lust the Vulcan had never imagined he'd be capable of. Already he'd swelled to the point where his pants no longer fit, and he gawked at his own crotch wondering how in the name of Thuwak—_Surak_, damn it!—such a massive boner was even possible.

Meanwhile, the Medusan's evil voice just would _not_…_give_…_up!_

_Oh…but she doesn't _know_, does she?_ the voice of Kollos snickered. _No, no, 'cause see…to her, you're the_ good _"Mr. Spock." You're the polite and stoic, "Mr. Spock." You're the_ honorable _"Mr. Spock", the safe, 'would-_never_-have-a-dirty-thought-about-me' "Mr. Spock."_

_Does the lieutenant even know what she _does_ to you whenever she calls you "Mr. Spock"?_

_Eh…Mr. Spock?_

In a flash, the Vulcan was suddenly up and walking out of his quarters like an automaton, his body now in complete control. There was no point in even trying to gather his wits; the echo of Kollos was firmly at the helm.

_The bridge_. McCoy had said she was alone on the bridge, running diagnostics. Everyone else had jumped ship at the first chance of R & R and she was staying behind…doing _work_.

_Isn't that sooooooo_ Vulcan_…Mr. Spock?_

It shouldn't have been possible for him to walk so quickly. He wasn't even sure how his pants were staying on, considering the unnaturally sized erection he was sporting. It was throbbing and straining and threatening to burst through the very fabric.

Thank Surak the halls were empty.

_It_ is _quite fortunate, isn't it…Mr. Spock?_

He practically stormed onto the bridge and strode straight to where she was already bent over her console, humming one of her favorite tunes from Ancient Earth.

Somehow…Spock had always known her humming would be his undoing.

He swept forward in an instant, reaching under her uniform without warning and stripping off her underwear, just as he had fantasized 9,342 times…since last Tuesday. She gasped and tried to turn, but alas…despite all her gracefulness, she _was_ human and thus no match for _vastly _superior Vulcan reflexes.

Spock moved in, pressing as tightly as possible against her back to keep her from turning. With his left hand he yanked up her skirt, and with his right he reached between her legs, lightly tugging then stroking her clitoris in deliberate, evenly measured circles. Before she could offer protest, he leaned in, brushing her right ear very lightly with his lips as he murmured in his deepest voice, "_Trust_ me, Miss Uhura…you do _not_ want to fight me on this."

Her mouth—_that ridiculously beautiful mouth!_—fell open in shock when she realized who it was. Uhura tried to say something, maybe utter an objection of some sort, but her breath caught as her head rolled back—_nice bob, Miss Uhura!_—and all she could manage was a moaning…breathy…gasping—

"…_Mr. Spock_."

The Vulcan's entire body shuddered.

"…_Mr. Spock…you shouldn't…shouldn't be…oh, Mr. Spock…__**Mr. Spock**__…._"

If she didn't stop calling him that _right the hell now_, he was going to explode ahead of schedule and embarrass himself even worse than when he impulsively started spouting off romantic poetry to her like a…like a…well, you _know_, like a....

_Lovesick schoolboy_, the voice of Kollos helped him out.

Spock squeezed his eyes shut, steeling himself. His left hand promptly dropped her skirt and rose swiftly to plug two fingers into her mouth—_that ridiculously beautiful mouth!_—and keep it from firing anymore dangerous missiles.

He could handle the soft sucking, moaning noise she started making, as her warm wet mouth tugged at his fingers, and her tongue ran in fleeting torture over the tips. _That_ he could handle...but just barely, and certainly not for long. Because the next thing he knew, his slacks were down around his thighs, her skirt was up around her hips—along with her right leg—and Spock was pushing himself…_all of himself_…into a tight, searing hot wetness which outdid any of his most vivid fantasies.

Unable to think, unable to speak, he finally gave in and fulfilled his long-held desire of plowing into her like a mindless animal, ruthlessly bruising her G-spot and savoring the tight, sucking friction which sent stroke after stroke of wild red lightning through him.

Uhura also gave in, moaning loudly with her eyes close while sucking on his fingers, stroking the tips with her tongue, and deviously matching the rhythm of his hips.

Spock's eyes rolled far back into his head as he let his body say everything his mind had been too repressed let him to say. As it turned out, his body was one hell of a speaker, because it talked Uhura's into a screaming, mind-blowing orgasm which rocked her entire form.

It sent him over the edge. Spock felt his head explode—both of them, come to think of it—as he saw nothing but blinding sparks. His violently surging dick filled her with spurt after powerful spurt of burning hot lava, and the moment he was emptied and sated, the two haplessly collapsed to the floor.

They lay silently for a moment catching their breath and their wits came back to them one by one. When several silent moments passed, and their heartbeats slowed, Spock rolled to his side and in his usual professional, neutral tone, told her,

"Miss Uhura, I need to speak with you about a private matter. Now I understand this may seem sudden—considering our usual interaction—so I will understand your surprise when I explain that for some time now I've found you…immensely agreeable…as in…in the physical sense…as in…you know…_sex_." He had to mumble that last word to keep from blushing any darker.

Uhura rolled over to look at him, eyes shining brightly, her smile sweeter than he'd ever thought possible as she as beamed,

"Really?"

* * *

_*For more information on Kurik, see "Into the Valley", Ch 6_.


End file.
